[center][h2][u]Hestollon System - Hestollon II[/u][/h2][/center]

As she soared above the clouds, the only evidence of what was happening below a diffuse orange glow in the overcast, the cockpits radio crackled to life, “This is Bravo 4-9, calling for air support.  Repeat, Bravo 4-9 calling for air support.  We're under fire from a building at grid coordinates 651.789.442, repeat 651.789.442.”

Jasmine cringed and rubbed her ears with her off hand.  It had been a long time since the Scorpine jammers could actually block a transmission, but by god the interference was uncomfortable to listen to.  Bravo 4-9's every word was punctuated by shrill static, and by the time they were done she had the beginnings of a headache for what was the fifth time in the day.  Seeing the rest of her wing signal they were busy on the fighters HUD she opened her comms and intoned, “Bravo 4-9 this is Romeo 1-2, fall back to safe positions I've got this one.”

As she she banked hard to set up her attack vector and plunged into the clouds she took in her surroundings.  It was beautiful, in a sick sort of way.  The mega city below her was on fire, and dozens of her peers were periodically swooping down to keep it like that.  Her target was rather obvious, an old looking tower she didn't doubt had been built before the empires fall; the building was easily one of the most venerable left in the city.  She saw the flash of a weapon from one of its higher floors and swerved, the few shots flying wide.  

With a sigh she armed her standoff missiles and sent six flying towards the buildings base.  The Scorpine resistance had been getting stiffer for years, but ever since the damn bugs had managed to isolate the fifth and ninth fleets they'd been all but impossible to root out.  It would be decades before anyone lived in this city, the way things were going.  Without waiting to confirm her hit she pulled up, only listening to the eventual call that told her if she'd have to make another run, “This is Bravo 4-9, nice hit Romeo 1-2, the whole things dust.”

She didn't have it in her to do more than tap her comms transmission switch twice as confirmation.  Ever since the fleet had bombed this planets fortifications into dust her job had been a bore.  Bomb this convoy, hit that mech, level another city block. There was hardly anything left to make things interesting, just millions of Scorpine refusing to admit their cause had been lost months ago.

Evening out she looked down on the planet from the edge of the atmosphere, ready to swoop down again if the call came.  As if in challenge to her complacency, that was precisely when a call she specifically hadn't been expecting came, “This is theatre command, all Odysseus Fighter Bombers fall back to your carriers.  I repeat, all Odysseus Fighter Bombers fall back to your carriers.  We have contacts jumping in past the heliosphere.  Estimate one hour to intercept.”

It wasn't what she expected, but Jasmine didn't even try to suppress her grin.  What was the point of being a pilot without getting into a good old dog fight once in while?  


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As he robotically went through his pre-flight checklist Dominik kept his eye on the oversized digital clock on the hangers far wall.  Fifteen minutes until launch, and after that he doubted it'd take long for the fight to begin.  The Odees had stopped landing a while ago and now it looked like they were all being refitted for space combat, hopefully the lot of them would be ready by the time the Scorpine fleet was in weapons range.

His Bellerophon, or Belle, was a hell of a strike craft, but he couldn't scratch anything larger than a destroyer.  At least, not without mounting long range guided missiles and sacrificing the maneuverability that would keep him and his wing alive in combat.  That wasn't their job, and to be frank they'd not done their job since the planets siege had begun, and he was anxious as all hell to be doing it now.

From what he'd been told they were outnumbered, not by much, but hell when he joined up there wasn't a battle where they didn't outnumber the Scorpine two to one.  Fleet command really dropped the ball a few years back and the thought that some complacent admirals fuck up would end up killing him wasn't one he particularly liked.  He figured that made him a bad soldier.  A problem for another time, that line of thought.

When the counter hit five minutes the alarms started blaring, and Dominik swore loudly, “Motherfucker!  Chief get these god damn chocks off me!”  In moments the deck crew was removing the wedges and clearing him for combat long before they'd ever expected to need to, another fuck up on the fleets part he figured.

He taxied onto the runway and set the dampeners to max just before the decks mag catapult blasted him into the void of space.  A quick look out his window showed his carrier shrinking behind him as dozens of other fights swarmed out of its four hangers like angry bees.  Bringing up the battle overview on his HUD showed him why they'd launched early.

More than a hundred Scorpine bombers with a light escort were burning towards them, having snuck through the frontal battle line before it was formed.  The fuck did the bugs have that was that fast? Over the radio the wing leader addressed them all “Ok wing, Lima 1-1 here.  Those bastards managed to skirt our defences and they're closing in on our carriers with the intent to tear us all a new one.  So, it's our job to kill them before they can.  All of you on me, we're punching it and breaking up their formation.”

Dominic flicked the transmission switch, “Lima 1-4 to Lima 1-1, orders acknowledged.”  With a grunt he put everything he had into engines and followed his wing into the fray.  He supposed his hands didn’t shake, and he didn’t piss himself, but as the Scorpine fleet behind their vanguard resolved on his sensors a chill went down his spine like it never had before.  He all but whispered, “Oh come on...”